Avenger's Legacies
by Xenerfy
Summary: Inspired by a Tik Tok of all things, This is an expansion on the concept of what life and its challenges might be like for the children of the Avengers in the not too distant future. Most of their parents are either, dead, preoccupied, unaware of their existence, or simply retired. The prologue is supposed to be super suspenseful and mysterious about 'What's gonna happen?"#Spoilers
1. Prologue

AN: The Cringe Level in this fic might hit… 3000

Also, not an incredible amount of effort will be put into this, its just for fun. Enjoy :)

Prologue

A dark room, illuminated only by the light holo-screens layered in a menagerie of sizes, depths and colors. The light from them flickers like a candle made of lightening on the linoleum. A single eye scans them, as it focuses on a new target, the screen enlarges, it's audio streaming directly into his hearing aids. A small click from the door alerts his electric wheelchair. A laser on a robot arm, aggressively pops out from a spoke and aims at the source of the noise.

"Woah, easy there…" Webbing shoots from the dark, clogging the barrel of the laser. "And here I was thinking that you couldn't hear me anymore."

"I don't have to, the chair does all the work." Nick Fury says absentmindedly.

"Right. Yeah… Should've guessed that," The voices words catch in his throat as he enters the dim light behind Director Fury.

"What do want Parker?"

"You know, that still doesn't sound as good as spiderman." Peter says. Nick raises his free eyebrow as he turns. Projecting with it a very loud silence. "Right, sorry, um… I have a… request of sorts." Still no response. "As much as we've been able to save the world, a-and, really people in general, I can't help but feel like there's a few that've kind of gotten left behi-"

"Parker, I'm getting too damn old for this shit, just spit it out."

"I wanna know where they are." The words come tumbling out.

"You're going to need to be more specific than that." His eye peaks out from under his brow ridge at Peter.

"T-The kids. Director. Sir." Peter clears his throat. Nick starts to shake his head.

"Those records ha-"

"-ve been sealed, I know, I know. But even I can't find them, so I have to ask, who would have the resources to hide them like that?" He asks rhetorically. "And no matter what answer I come up with, they all lead back to you… Sir." Its now that Peter gets a good look at the director, he can see the wrinkles that the last decade has given him, and he wonders why he's never gotten that replacement eye either.

"First of all…" He grumbles, "Stop eyeballing my eye patch." Peter immediately, diverted his gaze to anywhere else in the room.

"Sorry…"

"Second, those records are sealed for a reason Parker, you know that." He waves him off.

"For their safety I know but-"

"But nothing!"

"But how can the right people keep them safe if no one knows where they are?! What if someone figures it out because they start displaying… Abnormalities, and they have to deal with it all on their own! Mr. Fury, don't you think they deserve to know who they are, where they come from?"

Fury eyes him a little longer, smacks his lips and sighs.

"Leave." He says. The word cut deep, he really thought he had a shot at this. Whatever this means, he knows that asking anymore of him would be pointless. So, Peter twists the door nob before looking back one last time at the man who started it all. It's his turn to sigh. Soon enough he's passing through the glass of the newest incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, also known the Amity Building built on the foundation of the original Stark Tower. M.J. Is leaning on a lamppost on the other side of the sidewalk. She catches him out of the corner of his eye, and before he can say anything, she asks.

"So, did he go for it?" Peter rubs the back of his neck like he's embarrassed.

"Oh yeah, totally, he thought it was a great idea." He tried lying, only managing sarcasm.

"Did he at least say why?" Pressing on, she's already not happy to have to stay out of the meeting.

"He thinks that they're safer this way or something I don't know, he's Nick Fury, he doesn't have to have a reason!" Peter says in his own exasperation, unintentionally aiming it at his wife. Now she was scowling with a singularly raised eyebrow. The second time he'd seen that face today and it isn't any more fun this time around. "No, I didn't mean- ugh, I just, I want this as much as you do, but I don't know what more to do." She shakes her head at the whole thing.

"This is ridiculous, I'm going up there." She begins storming passed Peter. He catches her.

"No, no, no, no, you can't just-" Friday interrupts Peter.

"Peter, I'm getting a series of encrypted messages," Peter starts to see them in his glasses on his HUD, bubbling up from the bottom left hand corner. "They all seem to be active coordinates,"

"I can't what, now?" M.J. says laying the trap.

"Never mind. Babe, we've got 'em…" He says in amazement. She can see his eyes darting all over the screen.

"All of them?" She snaps out of her anger.

"No, no this can't be all of them, but it's a start." He smiles at her.

*Bum bum, BAH NAH NAH NAH Nah Nah nah…*


	2. Chapter 1 A New Normal

"Friday, start sleeper protocol." Holographic emitters fire from the corners of the room, layering over the pink bed spread. Making it seem full of dark-haired sarcasm. Even going so far as to emulate breathing. A red canvas jacket flies in a circle, landing perfectly on her shoulders. Her hands thread across the back of her neck, pulling those long dark tresses out from under the collar, fluffing them appropriately around her face. Morgan Stark check her teeth in the floor length mirror one more time.

"Where are you going again?" Her sister Amber asks from the chair at Morgan's vanity.

"So, you can send the parent patrol in the opposite direction?" Morgan responds with a hint of suspicion."

"And, so we know where to start looking when you don't come back." Amber smirks. Morgan rolls her eyes. She's tilting her head in every direction to check for any mistakes.

"Becky Anderson's. Because unlike us, she has cool parents that let her throw parties when they're out of town."

"Okay but we definitely have the cooler parents, mom runs a whole company, and dad was-" Morgan whips around stopping amber in her tracks.

"Don't you _dare_ say _it_." Her mood turned fowl, even Amber jumped a little.

"Fine," She says in a tone all too old for her. "But just so you know, Happy ran out to get A' Puchino's" Amber hops off the bed, disturbing the hologram faintly. "So have fun missing out on the best garlic rolls ever."

"Best garlic rolls ever," Morgan repeats in a mocking tone. She rolls her eyes. Fluffing her hair once more for good measure. Although if she's honest with herself it's more out of habit than anything. She closes the door to her room, doing one last sweep to make sure everything is in order. "Friday?"

"Yes Ms. Stark?"

"You'll cover for me till I get home, right?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." The A.I. responds

"That's my girl." Morgan smirks. She knows Friday can hear everything, and to refute understanding it was all the confirmation she needed. Her fingers graze the light panel on the wall near the door. The lights dim out and she makes her way to the window. The cool night air pours into the room. It smells of oak and wet lawns. Morgan looks down at the bushes lining the house, three floors down. 'I wonder when I'll stop feeling my heart jump.' She thinks. It doesn't seem to matter how many times she'd done something like this, she always feels her chest tighten. Her hand instinctually raises to grasp her necklace. A glowing triangle encased in glass. Her feet carry her backward, her eyes never leaving the window. When her heal touches the closet door behind her, she gets low like a wrestler. Then, without hesitation, she bursts forward diving out of the window. Arms out wide she flips, one, two, and on the third flip iron boots and gloves materialize. Firing, they balance her in mid-air. Gently carrying her to the ground. She sprints off down the street, knowing her friends are parked a block away.

And that's how her night started, a devilish smile and endless possibilities. A few hours later Pepper Pots stands at the liquor cabinet, dragging out an old single malt scotch. A holo-screen floating silently just to the left of her line of sight. A big yellow dot pulsating like an alert. Behind her, she hears shoes coming down the stairs. It's funny, how when you live with someone for long enough their stride has a sort of melody, totally unique, and so, without even thinking about it, she knew it was Peter. He yawns turning the corner into the kitchen.

"I wonder how many times one man, can read a batman comic before he loses his sani… ty…" He pauses as he sees Pepper pouring the scotch over two spherical ice cubes. "Mrs. Stark?" Even at nearly thirty he insists on using her title as Tony's wife. One of his way of keeping him alive she supposed. "Is everything okay?" He stands across the granite island from her, a concerned look on his face. He knows she only drinks when somethings very wrong. Of course, one of those times was after having to drop Morgan off for summer camp. But this feels different he thinks.

Without hesitation she lifted her hand, and with a reverse pinching motion she blew up the holo-screen, and then with a wave swung it around for Peter to see. Pepper keeps the bottle in her hand as she makes her way to a bar stool at the opposite end of the kitchen. Not to distance herself, just because it was the closest. Peter reads the screen allowed, "Alert Code: Canary? Mrs. Stark, I don't know what this means, I've never seen this code before."

"It's a protocol I had made for Tony, for whenever he got out of hand." She takes another sip.

"But that doesn't make any sense, this isn't even a threat level code, and why would it be going off anyway?" The longer this suspense went on, the more confused he got.

"It's not a glitch if that's what you mean." She took a bigger gulp before filing the glass once more. "It used to mean that Tony's GPS signal was inside a police station, that he'd been picked up for once thing or another and that I needed to go pick him up."

"That still doesn't-" Peter's cut off.

"Check the Tag ID." She gestures toward the screen. Peter grab the screen bringing it closer. His eyes widen in horror.

"That's…" He looks at her, almost frantic.

"She's certainly her father's daughter. No doubt about that." She downed the last of her glass. Leaving the bottle on the counter, she gets up and starts toward her bedroom.

"W-w-Well we have to go get her, come on!" He says now even more concerned about how nonchalant Pepper is being. She turns, her face aging gracefully, but the exhaustion apparent.

"I'm too old for this shit Pete. And I don't think I could see my little girl… like… like that, so by all means, go, bring her home. But I'm going to bed." Her arms were lax, and her tone meant she means business. Peter, stunned, fails to make any words come out before she was gone. Shaking it off, he starts toward the garage. Friday's Edith's voice in his ear.

"Peter?"

"Yes Edith?

"Mrs. Stark had a trust put aside for just such an occasion, I've transferred sufficient funds into your account to pay for Ms. Stark's release."

"When exactly did she do that?" He asks waving his hand over the edge of the car door, opening it automatically.

"Approximately seven months before Morgan's birth." Peter could only imagine the moment. A much younger Pepper gazing down at a positive pregnancy test. And her first reaction was something like, 'this kid's definitely gonna be trouble.'

Later at the station, Peter steeled himself for what he was about to see. Would she be battered and bruised, crying? Hysterical? Catatonic? He'd imagined them all on the drive over, something about letting Edith drive gives you even more time to think. Each of the scenarios like a specter from A Christmas Carol. But as he approached the cell in his faded blue hoodie and kaki jeans, he hears laughter. And now Morgan's voice.

"So, they've got me in the air, the music is so loud you can't even hear the champagne pop! And everyone sees the cruiser lights at about the same time, and their scattering like rats. But there's this one kid built like a bus, one hand on my ass and the other in between my shoulders." Peter slows his pace, standing just out of sight. "And I realize he's the only one holding me up," She can't help but laugh as she continues the story. "And this kid, I mean his is _booking_ it out the doors. And I don't know what was going through his head, but he runs straight at the cops and just _launches_ me at them!"

"Like Donkey Kong!" a random voice adds on.

"Exactly!" they all laugh again. "So, I land in this rookie's arms. I mean this guy is so fresh he smelled like a lawn mower." The laughter dies a bit, and her tone turns dramatic. "So, I look at this guy, and he has no idea what to do, and all I say is, 'don't you think I'm a bit young for you?' I swear he almost dropped me!"

Peter's laughter joined the chorus, except his was noticeably fake. Morgan stops dead. She's up in front of the drunks and petty thieves, as well as presumably a few classmates. A single gulp makes its way down her throat. "Spiderman is behind me, isn't he?" Her audience give a unanimous nod. Morgan regains her composure, Peter looms over her, she can almost feel the shadow of his judgement creep over her. She turns slowly.

"Hey Pete!" false excitement coursing through her words. "I'm so glad you're here" Her words are falling out of her mouth as fast as she can think them up. "These guys have absolutely no idea what they're doing an-"

"What are you doing here?" He cuts her off.

"What am I doing here?" Morgan stops pretending, and now is genuinely offended. "What are you doing here?" She takes a beat, before he can wrap his head around the question she starts again. "You know what? Don't even bother, I just can't believe she sent you to get me." She crosses her arms.

"Wait, so you did call your mom?" Peter says confused as ever. He should really stop making a habit of being confused.

"What?" Morgan asks wondering how he could possibly think that. "No! I called-" She's cut off again.

"Pete?" MJ's voice. Comes from behind him. He jumps. She's still the only one that can sneak up on him. He spins around to see his wife, just as confused as he is. She crosses in front of him effectively standing side by side with Morgan.

"You called her to bail you out?" His tone accusatorily in disbelief.

"Yeah," MJ answers for her. "Girls gotta stick together." They lightly fist bump between the bars. It was too much information for Peter at once. He is fuming now, and stammering. He points a finger at Morgan.

"You… I…" He stops the sentence in his throat. Taking a deep breath. "We are _so_ having a family meeting about this…"

"Wait," Morgan says, still confused, how'd you know to come here then?" She turns to MJ, "I apologize, I thought you sent him, and I was very upset."

"Apology accepted." MJ responds as if none of this is a big deal. Peter rubs the bridge of his nose, he can feel a headache coming on. "Your GPS signal entered a police station, and Friday automatically sent your mother an alert."

"_That bitch_" Referring to Friday.

"Whatever. Let's just go," He turns the rest of the station, catching the eye of an officer in uniform. "Can you get her out of here please? Thank you." Even if he hadn't already paid the bail the officer wasn't about to disobey spiderman. And soon enough the three of them were on their way home.

At the top of the stairs is where they said their goodnights and 'I'm glad you're okay' in multiplicity. And as Morgan slinks through her door, letting it drift closed behind her, she essentially shrugs off her jacket.

"Friday, Lights to fifteen percent." The lights come up just enough to see. She sits on her bed, sinking into her hologram, which Friday deactivates before the words are out of her mouth. A makeup wipe from her nightstand tears the war paint from around her eyes and cheeks. Quickly disposed of in the wastepaper basket by her desk. She crawls under the covers, still dressed. And her last thought is 'well it could've been worse, but tomorrow is definitely gonna be hell.'


End file.
